Atmosphere
by Youarethelightoftheworld
Summary: Their eyes meet, and the space between them ebbs and flows - expanding, fading, but never gone.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock talks when John is away.

It isn't because he does not notice when John has left the flat. The truth is that Sherlock cannot shut him out in that way. When it comes to detective work, John is his conductor of light. But his presence in Sherlock's life is as brilliant as firelight, reaching and illuminating even the long-forgotten corners of his Mind Palace. In Sherlock's eyes, John never ceases to glow.

And so, he speaks, because John is with him.

* * *

Before John, Sherlock found solace in his own thoughts.

There was stability in relying on only himself, but there was also a void. He filled it with knowledge, adventure, addictions. His mind was full of interlocking ideas and plans that always came back to his own needs.

When he met John, he found a way to make space again.

* * *

It's when they are apart that Sherlock notices their connection the most.

He feels John's eyes on him from across a crowded room and thinks wildly of planets in orbit. Their eyes meet, and the space between them ebbs and flows - expanding, fading, but never gone.

All others are shadows in the periphery of their universe. All others fade to dust.

He studies Newton and Kepler and the laws of gravitational force. He comes to know and appreciate the solar system, for it brings him knowledge of the way two bodies revolve around each other.

But it does not teach him a way to bring them together.

If he doesn't have the strength to change their course, at least he can learn to appreciate being in John's atmosphere.

* * *

Being apart becomes quite difficult. John can't possibly ask for time off every single time Sherlock needs to travel for a case, and the strain it puts on them is nearly embarrassing.

Sherlock wonders if too much distance between them is bad for his health, and then admonishes himself for such a ridiculous thought. But the miles stretch out like unbreakable barriers, and Sherlock cannot hear John's footsteps, or his sighs, or even his mundane thoughts.

I miss you, he writes, hitting send before he can remind himself that caring will not do him any good.

I was just about to send the same to you. Guess we're on the same wavelength tonight.

And every other night, he thinks. Every single night, John.

* * *

It happens on an ordinary day.

Sherlock sits, hands clasped and eyes shut, as he tracks John's footsteps. Staircase, front door, kettle. Upstairs for a change of clothes, staircase, kettle to pick up his tea. Armchair –

No. Wrong.

Sherlock's armchair. John has altered their course.

Oh, John. You have always been full of surprises.

Sherlock opens his eyes.

* * *

They have touched before, of course.

Sherlock can locate each memory in his Mind Palace, for these moments surge with energy and color. Fingers intertwined in greeting, an assuring hand on his lower back, a swell of pressure on his shoulder, and, once, his knee (a moment that glows red, like heat).

But here, now - Sherlock will remember this as shimmering gold.

A pull of gravity.

A burst of light.

John's hand touches his cheek, and against all odds,

They collide.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time John hears Sherlock speaking to an empty room, he is jealous of the walls and the spaces in which Sherlock confides.

He hovers on the landing outside 221B and listens. He clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut.

And then he hears his name.

* * *

Before Sherlock, John's thoughts seemed unworthy of being shared.

Where there had once been purpose and stability, the war left a void. He let it go unfilled, for he felt undeserving of companionship and adventure. In his day to day life, his only aim was to go undetected.

When he met Sherlock, he began to allow himself to take up space again.

* * *

It's when they are near each other that John notices their connection the most. Even with a hair's breadth between them, it still feels as though Sherlock is too far away.

There is a line that cannot be crossed too quickly or for too long. He feels the charge that lives between their bodies, struggles to overcome it, but the space sparks like electricity. He studies Boyle and Franklin and the path of lightning, but he knows that only those of great strength can survive a strike.

When they do touch, it is because John's desire for the feel of Sherlock's skin is stronger than his fear of the consequences.

* * *

Being apart becomes quite difficult. Sarah has made it clear that John must not take advantage of their friendship, and so he stays behind and dreams of going ahead.

He wakes up every morning and goes to work whether Sherlock is home or not, but the solitude feels like an empty bedsit and a road that leads to nowhere. He longs to race through the streets and feel the weight of his gun in his hand. He knows that the distance between him and Sherlock is bad for his health, and he does not care what his therapist would say if he told her that he'd found home in another person.

He reaches for his phone with the aim of telling Sherlock just how much he wishes they were together, only to find that Sherlock has gotten there first. Guess we're on the same wavelength tonight, he writes, knowing that this rings true every night of his life.

He does miss Sherlock, and he finds pleasure in being missed in return. But it is possible to miss an appointment, or a favorite pair of shoes, or a turn in the road. John knows that what he feels for Sherlock is something else entirely, and one day, he intends to tell him so.

* * *

One day arrives, quietly and without premeditation.

John walks slowly up the staircase and through the front door. He finds that the tea has already been made and goes upstairs to change while it cools. He returns to pick it up.

He could easily sit down in his armchair and let the evening progress without fanfare.

But he finds such joy in surprising Sherlock. It is a rare but beautiful thing to be able to catch him off guard. By now, he knows what Sherlock expects of him, and he quite enjoys doing the opposite.

And so he braves the storm.

* * *

Later, John will remember this as a grand clap of thunder.

A surge of electricity.

A flash of lightning.

He touches Sherlock's cheek, and against all odds,

They collide.


End file.
